


The Fool You Need

by ConcentratedMatter



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Gen, light emotional hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConcentratedMatter/pseuds/ConcentratedMatter
Summary: Barnes tries to provide some comfort, Carter doesn't want it.
Relationships: Howard Carter & Commander Barnes
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	The Fool You Need

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about Carter sometimes stealing small things from people to get back at them for something, and it ended up angsty.

The rain beats a steady drum on the ceramic tiles of the inn’s awning, water gushing down the wooden gutter next to the small stairs leading to the front door. Half-hidden in the shadows, Carter sighs and leans back into the space between the inn’s exterior wall and the small bath house. He stares out across the dark street, noticing the last illuminated window in the neighbouring building wink out as its occupant heads off to sleep. Something he himself should be doing at this late hour. 

His eyes flick down and he digs inside his jacket pocket, fingers soon finding the small wooden case hidden within. When he pulls it out, light pours into his little nook of the porch as next to him the front door slides open. He doesn’t look up, instead admiring the delicate craftsmanship of the carvings on the front of the oak container. He flips open the lid and surveys the contents.

“I didn’t think you were much of a smoker.”

Carter lifts out one of the cigars, turning it over in hand. He slides the case back into his jacket and grabs one his daggers, slicing the front of the cigar off before putting it between his lips. He looks up at Barnes and shrugs. 

“Sometimes the opportunity presents itself.”

Barnes is silhouetted against the light filtering in from the inn’s entrance way; his hair pulled back in a short ponytail, dark circles under his eyes as his hand still lingers on the door. He seems to hesitate for a second, before he slides the door closed behind him, soft orange illuminating his stony face. 

“The opportunity being... having sticky fingers while looking through Wilde’s latest shipment?”

Carter fails to respond, busy lighting a match and holding it up to the cigar between his teeth, protecting the flickering flame against the draft. The end of the cigar glows a dull orange, and he takes a few experimental puffs. When he exhales the light smoke, a thoughtful expression appears on his face as he judges the flavour. 

“Not half bad, Wilde.” He mutters to no one in particular, putting the matches back in his pocket and fishing the cigar from his mouth. He eyes Barnes, who despite his stoic demeanour looks somewhat uncertain. Barnes clears his throat, looks away, then grimaces and leans against the wall next to him. 

“Look, I’m sorry about today-” 

Carter stares out into the night, taking another drag of the cigar, and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Carter-”

He can feel Barnes looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he just stares wearily up at the rain dripping down from the edge of the awning, like a glistening curtain isolating the inn from the rest of the world. Would that it were that easy. 

In the silence, Barnes wrinkles his nose at him, eyebrows raising. “Did you liberate some of Wilde’s drink as well?”

“Oh, dear me, no!” Carter says cheerily, a bitter smile on his face. “This is all from trusty Carter’s own stash.”

Barnes seems to want to comment on that, but hesitates, apparently thinking better of it. After a brief pause, he folds his arms. “Look, if you want to talk about it...”

“Piss off,” Carter mumbles, contemplating giving Barnes the finger. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the wooden railing. The occasional gust blows the rain perilously close to him, the fine spray tickling the hairs on his arm. “It’s bad enough when the dwarf does it.”

Barnes’ mouth stretches taut into a thin line, but he doesn’t move. Carter’s cigar catches the rain. He stares at the soft glowing embers until they slowly die out. He blinks, and then drops the half-burned stub over the railing, watching it as it splashes into the rushing drainage water below. It briefly bops back up in the turbulent water, then disappears as it is swiftly carried to a new destination down the street.

“I know you all think I probably deserve to be in a jail somewhere,” He says, although he mentally adds that it wouldn’t be for long. If you keep trying, eventually you’ll get out. Behind him, Barnes gives a non-commital shrug. 

“Oh, _perfect._ You dick.” Carter replies, although there’s an undertone of humour in his voice. “The point is, I could have been in a jail somewhere. Or anywhere, really. But instead I’m on a Gods-forsaken island in Japan risking life and limb because Wilde asked me to, and in return I only ever asked for _one_ thing.”

He frowns down at his now empty hands, vision partially obscured as his wet hair hangs in front of his eyes. Barnes leans on the railing next to him, a pained expression on his face. 

“I’m sure they’re all right, Carter.” He says carefully.

“Yeah, but you don’t _really_ know that, do you?” Carter replies, pushing himself from the railing in a quick, angry motion. A silent resentment settles in his stomach. They never like hanging out with him when all is well, but when things are less than fine suddenly everyone wants to be buddy-buddy to make themselves feel good. Not today.

“I’m sure Wilde is doing his best to find out what happened. Communication hasn’t been too reliable lately.”

“Yeah, well. He guaranteed me my family would be safe, Barnes.” He laughs bitterly. “But I guess I should have known guarantees aren’t worth much around here.”

He glares out into the night, cursing the Gods. Cursing this place, and the people in it. Cursing Wilde. Then he turns around. The sudden movement brings him off-balance, and he reaches out to steady himself on the wall. Barnes frowns at him, but he ignores the man as he stomps past him.

“Carter-”

Hand halfway to the door, he stops, swaying. He digs back inside his jacket pocket, pulling out the wooden case. In one unceremonious motion, he upends the contents over the railing. The lid makes a sharp sound as it snaps back closed, and he stares impassively as the expensive cigars scatter in the pouring rain. 

“Never did like smoking.”

It’s petty, he knows. But it satisfies him. Tomorrow, things will go back to normal. Tomorrow, work will continue and he will go back to playing the role they expect of him. But for tonight, he allows himself to be petty. 

He smiles, and before Barnes can reply, the door slides closed behind his retreating form. 


End file.
